Page 39 of The Mask Falling

I stopped dead, willing the floor to disappear, the ceiling to collapse and bury me. Arcturus looked at me, expressionless.

“I presume you did not come to discuss the particulars of my anatomy, Paige,” he said.

“I did not.” I picked up the shreds of my composure and started again: “I came to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that, or called you what I did. I’m sorry.”

He closed the book and turned over, so his back was against the pillows. “You spoke true,” he said. “By asking you to lead the rebellion, I did bring all of this on you.”

“I didn’t mean any of that. It’s not your fault I was tortured. Or that Vance killed my father,” I said. “I ate the head off you because I was overtired. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

When I came to sit on the bed, he returned his book to the stack on the bedside table, and I wrapped myself a little more tightly in my cardigan. His room was colder than mine.

“You were right. I was trying to prove something to myself by going down there,” I said, “but I pulled you into danger with me, knowing you wouldn’t leave me alone. That wasn’t fair.” I looked him in the eye. “I didn’t lie to you about what I aimed to do today. Having said that, I know I’m a chancer. I shouldn’t have made a promise I knew I might not keep.”

His answer was hushed: “I did not intend to imply that you deceived me out of malice.”

“I know what you meant.”

He studied my face. I raked my fingers through my frizz-addled curls.

“I know I’m quick to snap at you sometimes. If it helps, I’ve done it to most of my friends,” I said. “Eliza always said my name was perfect for me. A page looks soft, but it has sharp edges.”

“Hm. And paper cuts never sting for long.”

“Why are you excusing it?” I asked quietly. “I’m not Nashira. You don’t have to absorb whatever I throw at you.”

“Because I have felt the same anger you aimed at me,” he said. “When you were tortured, every facet of who you are came under assault. For a long time, you may feel even the smallest criticism as an extension of that attack. Instinct will tell you to defend yourself.”

His words rang with truth. The moment he had tried to express a concern, something inside me had bared its teeth. A shadow of the thing I had become when I was tortured.

“And because I confess to a fear of losing you. Stronger now than it was before,” he continued, softer. “I cannot be certain that it did not spur my desire for you to turn back today.”

He had tried to stop me giving myself up to Scion. In answer, I had pointed a gun at him.

“That fear—my fear—is not your cage,” he said. “I will never ask you to mold yourself to it.”

I held his gaze. “I don’t want us to argue,” I said. “Do you forgive me?”

“If you will forgive me. For my fear.”

“I do.”

Quiet fell between us. I knew I should leave now. Toss and turn in my own bed until I wore myself out.

“I can’t sleep.” It was out before I could stop it. “Would you mind if I stayed here tonight?” I cleared my throat. “I keep thinking I’m still chained up in that basement. Alone.”

His eyes were embers. After a long moment, he shifted to the left side of the bed.

“By all means,” he said.

“Sure?”

“Quite sure.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I went to the other side. Arcturus retrieved his book. Once I had found a position that let me breathe, he reached for the light.

“Oh, don’t turn it off on my account,” I said.

“I have my own reading lamps.” He indicated his face. “Unless you would sooner not be in darkness.”

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